


Subject, date, location

by musterings



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Inspired by Music, M/M, Post-Break Up, putting the word "office" in "office romance" HA, super indulgent, timeline would be past brotherhood but quite a bit before the road trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musterings/pseuds/musterings
Summary: “Do you uh,” Gladio drew a breath and snapped his head back up, golden eyes filled with determination, “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me sometime?”“Like a walking meeting?” Ignis asked, his voice small and hesitant.





	Subject, date, location

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [one song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1lDu5WgbBY) that keeps coming up on shuffle and every time I hear it, I wheeze _gladnis_  
>  This is the result

Ignis's reflection blinks back at him from his bathroom mirror.

He pushes his bangs up and holds them in place while he turns his head to examine his face at different angles.

Bangs up or bangs down?

Since taking part in more official duties, being in the presence of dignitaries and politicians much older than him, he'd been experimenting with finding a more mature and professional look.

It would be convenient, having his bangs gelled up keeps the hair out of his eyes, and the men in the magazines he’s pored over with their slicked back hair looked smart, sharp, and exuded a confidence that Ignis wanted to emulate.

Ignis picks up the jar of gel on his table and unscrews the lid, but then his keen hands slow when he looks back up at the mirror.

A flash of laughter echoes faintly in his head, along with fragments of a patronising tone disguised as care and concern, forming into words offhandedly said, but still just as callous, all those months ago, “ _I just don’t want people to think you look like you’re trying too hard_.”

 

_Ignis stepped out of his apartment after a prolonged period of trepidation, but soon he settled into the style he had proudly chosen for himself._

_Then his boyfriend made the comment during their lunch break together, and it seared into Ignis’s head and nagging at him throughout the day._

_Ignis marched through the halls to find a bathroom in the far off corners off the Citadel, ready to flatten his hair down before his next meeting—he didn’t want to sit through the whole meeting conscious of how ridiculous he must look—and in his frantic pace he almost collided with more than six feet of apologetic muscle mass._

_“Woah sorry Iggy,” said Gladio with a sheepish smile, “Didn't see you from around the corner.”_

_With the faint smell of soap Ignis caught in their near collision, and his uniform jacket not quite done up, Ignis surmised that he must be rushing over from the training halls._

_“Quite alright, I wasn't looking where I was going,” said Ignis, glancing down at his watch, “Will you be attending the monthly meeting?”_

_“Unfortunately!” Gladio laughed, ‘I’ll see you in there yeah?”_

_Ignis gave him a curt nod and walked past, but was stopped by a friendly tap on his shoulder._

_“New hair style?” Gladio asked, a curious gleam in his eyes._

_Ignis froze, and suddenly he felt like being anywhere but in his own skin, “I wanted to try something new,” he looked back down at his watch, although only seconds had passed since he had last done so, “Although now I think it's a bit much.”_

_“Are you kidding? It looks great,” a grin spread across Gladios face, “Makes ya look dashing. Anyway I’ll see you in a bit,” and with a friendly wink he set off for the board room._

_Ignis stood still, a flush creeping up his neck as he watched Gladio’s retreating figure weave through the office workers in the corridors._

_Ignis entered the boardroom minutes later, his hair touched up, a few of the strands that had fallen out gelled back up in place._

_From across the room, Gladio flashed him a bright grin._

 

Ignis stares back at the mirror, and unscrews the lid of his hair gel open.

* * *

The last few months were a bit of a blur. Most months tend to be, with the breadth of Ignis’s duties to the Crown, his days falling into a cascade of one deadline after the other. But that kind of blur was fast, like racing through highway tunnels late in the evening on his way home, too late for there to be any other cars on the road to care about Ignis relishing the rapidly blinking lights.

The months immediately after the breakup were hazy and disorientating, like waking up without his glasses when he was sure he had fallen asleep on his desk in his office with them on.

Intimacy had been a foreign concept to Ignis. His advanced curricula and his commitment to the Royal Family never gave him much elbow room for romance in high school, nor in university, nor after that, and many a man or woman regarded him as cold and standoffish.

But then Ignis had met _him_ , all well-spoken and bewitching, at a time when Ignis felt his loneliest and most undesirable, and Ignis had taken the chance, he had let this someone in, and for a while Ignis could begin to understand why some walls were worth taking down, or at least, building a few gates through.

It was a whirlwind romance that never seemed to end until it did, when the apologies and excuses and promises of next time no longer held water, and soon all Ignis had asked from his lover was patience (for his duties, for his insecurities) which was eventually, in the long list of rosy gifts and promises he had lavished Ignis with, the one thing he couldn’t afford him, the novelty of courting the Crown Prince’s Royal Advisor having seemingly worn off.

If intimacy was foreign to Ignis, heartbreak was from an entirely different planet.

 

 

“You doing okay Specs?” Noctis asked, idly tapping away on a game on his phone, legs pulled up and crossed on a dining room chair.

It was a couple of weeks since Noctis had caught wind of the news of the end of Ignis’s relationship.

Ignis never explicitly told Noctis about it, he never wanted to burden Noctis with such trivialities, when the young prince shouldered so much more, but news travelled fast, and Ignis must have been in bad shape if Noctis himself could sense a change in his temperament.

But then again, Noctis was always more perceptive than he let on.

“Yes,” Ignis replied primly from above the vegetables he was chopping up with heightened focus on the kitchen counter, his back turned to Noctis.

Noctis sat back in his seat, peering over the oversized phone in his hands to observe the tense posture of his friend and Advisor.

“Hey Ignis.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever wanna talk about it,” Noctis paused the game on his phone, a lost cause at this point as his misdirected attention had resulted in a full party wipe, and glanced up at Ignis’s back, “You know where I am.”

“Of course I know where you are,” Ignis retorted, not once looking up from the chopping board, so as to not reveal him fruitlessly blinking away the burning tears slowly welling up in his eyes, “I handle your schedule.”

Noctis smirked but said nothing, and unpaused his game.

 

 

Ignis would get over it. He would have to, as there were far more important things to attend to than wallowing in his own self-pity.

He sometimes always thought he had, and that was a sure mistake, to acknowledge it outright, because whenever he did, memories of grand romantic gestures and passionate nights suddenly come flooding back, usually while he eats dinner alone in an empty apartment, with only a bottle of wine, and a feeling of emptiness that threatened to expand from his chest and engulf him whole to keep him company.

His friends helped. Noctis in his sometimes awkward but always sincere displays of brotherly affection, playing Ignis’s favourite songs on the car’s speakers when he drives him home or by protesting a little less, or Prompto who never fails to stop by Ignis’s on his running days with pastries, coffee, and a friendly chat before Ignis has to throw himself at work, or Gladio, who, despite a schedule only marginally a little less chaotic than Ignis’s, stops by his apartment in the evenings, particularly those where it’s too late for Ignis to cook, with takeaway containers of hot food (made by Jared, or ordered out from Ignis-approved hole-in-the-wall restaurants) and a rotation of recommended books.

But Ignis couldn’t always keep them around him to cheer him up.

The three would drop everything if he ever asked, and that’s precisely why he never did.

So in these moments alone, Ignis dealt with his heartbreak the way he coped with most challenges best: by moving it far down his priority list.

 

 

“Just go for it dude,” Noctis said, as he sipped his milkshake from two straws simultaneously.

Gladio glanced at Noctis from across his side of the booth, over the monstrous burger that dwarfed even his own large hands.

Ignis knew all about the ins and outs of Insomnia’s food scene, and had suggested they try a small boutique burger bar somewhere downtown, a dimly lit establishment with old arcade games, flickering neon signs that decorated the interior’s dark brick walls, and various burgers with quirky names and eclectic ingredients handwritten in brown paper menus.

For all of the grease that the menu provided, Ignis would have been fond of its charm, atmospheric and quiet enough that Ignis could knock back a quiet drink with Gladio whilst the games could keep Noctis and Prompto entertained. And yet, he was the one stuck in an office somewhere, with only a quickly messaged apology to speak for it.

“It’s not that easy man,” sighed Gladio.

“Only ‘cos you’re making it _not easy_ ,” huffed Noctis.

“It’s _complicated_ Noct,” said Gladio before taking a bite from his burger, chewing it and swallowing it down with a difficult gulp, “Weren’t we talking about something else?”

“Yeah!” chimed Prompto, ever helpful, “Noct’s going for his full license test soon.”

“Right,” said Noctis, “Specs’n’me have been driving through the test routes around the city.”

Relieved with the change of topic, Gladio slumped back in his seat and reached out for a handful of fries.

“Speaking of Specs,” said Noctis, a knowing look exchanged between he and Prompto going unnoticed by their large disgruntled friend, “Wasn’t there something you gotta say to him, big guy?”

Gladio groaned through a mouthful of fries as Noctis and Prompto bumped fists from across the table.

The Shield of the future King of Lucis never lets his guard down. Except maybe, around the future King of Lucis himself, because Gladio never thought the future King of Lucis was someone he particularly needed to defend himself against.

Ignis had stopped by during training to drop something off for Noctis and maybe Gladio's gaze lingered for too long when Ignis laughed at one of his stupid jokes, or maybe Gladio's smile back was extra goofy when Ignis had bid them good-night.

Whatever it was, Noctis had latched on to it like a nosy tick on a lovesick dog.

“It’d be too soon,” grumbled Gladio.

“How would you know that?” asked Noctis, “That's for Specs to decide.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You think he’s cute right?” cooed Prompto,

“I'm not answering that.”

Noctis sipped his milkshake, his head tilted up in innocent curiosity at Gladio.

Not that Noctis needed an answer to that one. Since they were children, Gladio was way too easy to read around Ignis, for a guy that was born into a family of bodyguards.

More recently, there was a fondness in Gladio's gaze or a stammer in his normally so brash and self-assured speech, that Noctis had made the executive decision to set him aside and do something about it.

“He keeps taking on all this work from all these old assholes on the council that he really shouldn’t be doing anyway,” said Noctis morosely, remains of his milkshake noisily rattling through his two straws as he sipped, “He's been pretty high strung lately,”

Prompto looked quizzically from his burger, some spicy deep fried chicken concoction that has his face glowing red, “Hasn’t he always been?”

“More than _usual_ ,” whined Noctis, “Come on guys, we love Ignis right?”

Prompto whooped a “Yeah!” and Gladio gave him a weak nod.

“And obviously that means we don’t want to see him sad like this, working himself to death,”

“But taking him out on a date isn't gonna fix things Noct,” Gladio interrupted, “I don’t wanna push anything on him.”

“I’m not asking you to _fix_ anything,” said Noctis hastily, “It’s just that, you obviously like him, and unlike the _last guy_ , who was a total _douche-canoe_ , I actually do one-hundred percent approve of you, so _you’re welcome_ , and it’s annoying you’re not doing anything about it, when there’s nothing stopping you.”

Gladio opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut after a flashing moment of thought.

Noctis rolled his eyes, “Come on Glads, what’s up?”

Gladio slumped back further in his seat, eyes pointed towards an obnoxiously bright neon-sign of a hot dog, and muttered, “I don’t even think he’d say yes.”

Gladio coloured his conversations with all people, Ignis included, with an easy and cheeky flirtatiousness that flattered most. Asking someone out should be a cinch for a guy like him.

Yet here sat Gladio now, shoulders sinking deeper than his deep frown, staring longingly at a burger almost the size of Noctis’s head, his brow creased in worry at the prospect of such an undertaking.

 _Yep,_ Noctis bit into his own burger, _The guy’s got it bad._

It’d be a risk. There’s a friendship on the line, as well as a longstanding working relationship with an indefinite end date.

But even if Ignis had said no, and, although Noctis won’t say this out loud to his despondent friend right now there _is_ a small chance he _would_ say no, Noctis had utter confidence in his best and closest friends that they wouldn’t let it stand between their friendship and their work.

“A bang up guy like you Gladio?” Noctis scoffed, “Of course he’d say yes.”

 

 

Gladio knocked on the office door before he entered, a toasted sandwich from the in-house cafeteria downstairs in a brown bag in one hand, and a tray of two fresh takeaway cups of coffee in the other.

Ignis looked up from his computer and across his desk, which was laden with strewn about stacks of documents and a couple of empty cans of Ebony.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” said Ignis, his tired eyes nonetheless following Gladio as he walked closer, and lighting up at the smell of toasted bread, _sourdough_ , wafting out from the bag, and of the aroma of coffee made from actual beans.

“Who said they were for you?” scoffed Gladio, as if he hadn’t asked Ignis for a lunchtime timeslot knowing full well that Ignis would work right through lunch on an empty stomach had this slot been taken by a different commitment,

“I’ve seen how much you eat Gladio,” Ignis tutted, arms crossed and nose upturned, “Anything small enough to fit in that paper bag would do nothing for you, it’d be much better off given to me.”

“You got me,” sighed Gladio in mock defeat, “Guess you earned this then,” he passed the paper bag and a takeaway cup over to a smug and satisfied Ignis, keeping one cup for himself.

Gladio’s appointments always did look comical in Ignis's work calendar on the Citadel’s mail network, the lone thirty minute block among walls of two to four hour meetings, times allocated to review or write reports, or times where he’s needed at Noctis’s apartment.

And that’s not even counting the errands in Ignis’s personal calendar.

They've sorted out Noctis's schedule around his upcoming midterm exams within the first fifteen minutes. It takes some push and pull, and if Gladio, far too nervous to argue, had given in way too easily for some concessions this time around, Ignis hadn’t noticed.

Normally Ignis preferred that his meeting attendees left as soon as their agenda was cleared, as a fifteen minute head start until his next to-do list item can be significant.

But their talk had easily segued into how much Gladio and Ignis didn't miss university exams _at all_ , how Gladio did miss having a reason to read texts and old books without it feeling like an indulgence, and soon the two young men were catching up on what they’ve been reading lately, and then on what the other was getting up to in their free time when they _weren’t_ reading books.

Ignis listened on amused as Gladio gave a heated retelling of Iris’s most recent Parent-Teacher conference when the reminder alarm for Ignis's next appointment dinged from his phone.

“Guess it’s time for me to head off,” said Gladio. Distracted by their conversation, he had almost forgotten what he came here to speak with Ignis about, “Sorry if I’m holding you up.”

The _other_ reason he came here anyway.

“Not at all Gladio, I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Ignis crumpled up the paper bag and tossed it in his waste bin some distance away, and Gladio admired the toss with a whistle.

“Schedule planning was just that much fun huh?” said Gladio with a sly grin.

“There is nothing more exhilarating to me than a solid diarising session,” Ignis replied dryly, and Gladio let out a loud guffaw, which colleagues working outside in the open plan area had come to expect when the Shield and the Advisor had their meetings together. Ignis clasped his hands in his lap, and added, “But I always do enjoy our conversations, scarce as they may be.”

“Same here,” said Gladio, his smile bright, a warm sensation spreading through his chest.

“Shall we schedule a catch-up regarding Noct’s training schedule after his exams then?”

“Sounds good,” Gladio glanced at the time on his phone, spying a text message from one curious prince in his notification window, “I’ll check your calendar for a time that works for both of us, and I’ll send you an invite later tonight?”

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you could Gladio,” said Ignis with a pleased smile.

Gladio stood up stiffly from his seat and turned towards the door to make his exit.

_This it it, Amicitia. No backing out now._

“Hey, Iggy,” said Gladio, turning back to face Ignis’s desk, only to glue his eyes to the ground.

“Was there anything else you needed?”

Gladio rifled his hand through the back of his head, the silent pause prompting Ignis to look back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Do you uh,” Gladio drew a breath and snapped his head back up, golden eyes filled with determination, “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me sometime?”

Ignis's hand froze in mid-air where it was flipping a page on a document he had been looking through.

Gladio could practically hear the whirrs of gears in his head.

“Like a walking meeting?” Ignis asked, his voice small and hesitant.

Gladio chuckled, _Of course he’d think that._

“Nope, like a date,” Gladio declared, “Well, not _like_ a date, I _am_ asking you _on_ a date,” he quickly added to cement his intentions, all the while ignoring the thundering in his chest.

Ignis was silent for a moment, his expression unchanging, until his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Is this some sort of joke, Gladiolus?”

“What, Iggy, no!” exclaimed Gladio, hurt at the need to call his integrity into question, “I uh,” he drew up a large breath, “I always enjoy the time I get to spend with you and it’d be nice if we could do that some more?” he said, wincing at how simplistic it sounded out loud, “But it's fine if you don't want to, I’ll just head off now ‘cos you’re probably really busy—”

“Could I get back to you?” asked Ignis quietly, his expression unreadable, as he distractedly looks back at the document in his hands.

The tension mounting in Gladio’s gut slowly unfurled, “‘Course. You let me know when, or _if_ , like if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm cool with that, we can even pretend today never happened, I’m cool with that too—”

“I'll text you Gladio,” assured Ignis, his voice calm as he peers back up at Gladio,  “If that’s okay?”

“Yep sure, that’s cool, we’ll text,” Gladio said a bit too quickly, walking backwards, his back hitting the door frame, “See ya Iggy.”

Ignis offered him a comforting smile, “Thank you for bringing me lunch.”

Gladio nodded back, his lips pursed to bite down a smile.

He stepped out of the office, and when he was sure he was out of sight from the rest of the workers on that floor, pumped his fist in quiet excitement.

 

 

Ignis stormed into Noctis’s apartment and marched into the kitchen, startling the unsuspecting Noctis idly lounging on the living room floor, whose puzzled greeting was met with a terse nod.

Ignis then cooked dinner, then cleaned up after dinner, then baked small biscuits Noctis could take to class and share with Prompto, then helped Noctis start assignments that won’t be due for another few weeks (to Noctis’s frustration) and then prepped and packed lunch, an elaborate and heaping arrangement for Noctis to take to class the following day.

Unsure of what to do next, Ignis had proposed the idea of preparing the rest of Noctis's lunches for the _week_.

Noctis took one look at Ignis’s heavy eyelids and his restless pacing and followed him into the kitchen.

“What’s up Specs?”

“Up?” said Ignis has he scrubbed the bottom of a tupperware container, “Nothing’s _up_. It would just be efficient if your lunches were packed for the week. You freeze them and then defrost them as needed and then—”

“Not about the lunches Ignis,” Noctis crossed his arms, “Something’s obviously bothering you.”

Ignis mouth set itself in a thin line, “It’s just been a long day at work.”

Noctis hummed, then silently walked to the freezer.

No sound passed between the two of them, save for the rapid scrubbing of a sponge on plastic and of Noctis shuffling food around in the freezer.

After a moment, the scrubbing slowed down.

Ignis heaved a heavy sigh, “Gladio asked me out.”

Noctis’s eyes widened from behind Ignis.

Gladio had replied to his own barrage of text messages earlier that day, one message that simply said “ _There I did it”_ , before Noctis pressed him further for more details, so it’s not like Noctis didn’t know, but he didn’t expect Ignis to take his offer of talking to him about his lovelife to heart so easily.

“Wow, that’s—” said Noctis, his voice and eyebrows rising in attempted genuine surprise, “That sure is something.”

He approached Ignis with a small tub of ice cream he had excavated from his freezer, leaned his elbows on the counter next to Ignis and tilted his head to one side at him, “And what did _you_ say?”

“I said I’d think about it,” mumbled Ignis, as he idly rinsed out the container.

"You don’t sound too excited ‘bout it.”

“Should I be?”

Noctis shrugged, “Didn’t you have this like, huge crush on him in middle school?”

“I did _not,_ ” Ignis screwed the tap shut and wiped his hands on his apron vigorously, pained with the petulance he couldn’t wring out of his tone.

“Fine, let’s _pretend_ you _didn’t_ then,” teased Noctis, ignoring Ignis’s exasperated sigh and picking out two dessert spoons from the dishwasher, “You gotta admit Gladio’s boyfriend material right?”

Ignis sighed again, took the second spoon reluctantly from Noctis and turned to lean his hip against the kitchen sink.

On any other evening, Ignis would protest to eating ice cream straight from the tub, but tonight, Ignis was too agitated, and Noctis thought to capitalise on this, for his Advisor’s own good of course.

“Why am I talking to you about this again?”

“Because I’m your best friend and you love me,” crooned Noctis, “Humour me a little here, think about it now, theoretically speaking,” said Noctis slowly, punctuating each of his words with a tap of his spoon on the tub, “Wouldn’t Gladio be boyfriend material?”

“Theoretically speaking?” Ignis repeated with a furrowed brow.

Ignis had never seriously considered it before, after all, he’s not in the regular habit of weighing friends and acquaintances as romantic prospects, and it’s been the furthest thing away from his mind since his messy breakup.

Maybe once in middle school, but that was more a sudden awareness that Gladio was charming and strikingly attractive, an awareness Ignis brought with him and cultivated with further evidence once he entered young adulthood, but by the time he had reached that point, he had also gotten to know just how kind, caring and insightful the Shield could be.

“Theoretically speaking, Gladio would be...” Ignis trailed off, looking away from Noctis’s expectant gaze, “Um, boyfriend material.”

“So… why not go for it?” said Noctis, his voice levelled to the semblance of that of a neutral third party, “Give it a go, see what happens?”

“I don’t know Noct, this isn’t just any other person,” Ignis frowned at a spoonful of ice cream, “This is _Gladio_. He’s a friend. A good friend, to both of us. You and I both know it’s not that easy.”

Noctis snickered, _Now where have I heard that before?_

“You think too hard Specs! No one’s asking you to marry the guy! Best case scenario, you have a great time, ‘cos you two get on really well _anyway_ , you get another _date_ , maybe even a—” Noctis stopped to pull his lips up in an exaggerated kissy-face, complete with added smooching sound effects, undeterred by Ignis swatting his spoon at him,

“Worst case scenario, you guys don’t click that way, but you end up having a nice coffee date with a good pal, but that’d be fine too.”

Noctis paused to take another mouthful of ice cream, whilst Ignis gave him a skeptical side-eye, _When did I ever say anything about a coffee date_ _—_

“Anyway,” said Noctis, “I trust you guys’ll make this work whether or not something comes out of it, so uh,” he blundered out,  “So go out and do something that might actually potentially make you happy, Specs, even if just for a little while.”

Ignis glanced at the Prince at his side.

Noctis said nothing further, and instead stared down thoughtfully at the ice cream tub between them, dessert spoon in his mouth, as if to signal that he had finally said his piece.

Ignis nudged him with his shoulder.

Noctis looked up, and was met with Ignis’s small content smile.

“Thank you, Noctis.”

 

Ignis arrived home at his apartment shortly before midnight. He hoped that getting home late meant falling asleep as soon as he arrived, but instead he laid restless in bed, his attempts at sleeping interrupted by intermittent bursts of nervous energy and thought.

Gladio had never given any indication that he was attracted to him, not in the long years they’ve known each other. But that said, after all the long years they’ve known each other, it would be an insult to Gladio’s respect for Ignis to even consider that Gladio was merely doing this out of pity.

Ignis sat up against his headboard and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging his arms around his legs, his nose buried between his knees.

So say that this wasn’t out of pity then.

It’s been a long enough time that Ignis could block out the hurtful things said that one night he was so unceremoniously dumped, but not quite long enough for the memories of what used to be and what they became to sting whenever they _do_ merrily stroll into his thoughts.

Whether or not it was long enough for Ignis to take the plunge again with someone else was another question entirely.

 _It’s just a coffee with a friend,_ Ignis reassured himself, trying to shut out the images of aftermaths of events that his brain relentlessly created for him, of events that haven't occurred yet.

Ignis stretched one arm out to his bedside table for his phone and opened up his calendar app, scrolling back to earlier that day, past the walls of meetings and deadlines, a light flutter in his stomach when he landed back at that thirty minute block he had saved for Gladio.

 _“I always enjoy the time I get to spend with you_ _—”_

Ignis hugged his legs tighter to his chest and opened up a blank appointment.

 

 

It was just past midnight and Gladio still lay awake.

Gladio screwed his eyes shut, _Maybe he’ll reply tomorrow, he’s a super busy guy, just chill out for just five seconds man_ _—_

But then Gladio’s phone sounded, wrenching him out of his thoughts.

He bolted upright in bed, grabbed his phone and opened the notification to find an e-mail, containing a calendar invitation for a few hours on a late Wednesday afternoon, a mere week and a few days away.

A text message from Ignis shortly followed: he apologised for the time allotment, it was the only window of time he could wrangle out of his work, and that he hoped it suffices.

Gladio pulled up the calendar invitation again.

 _“Subject: Coffee with Gladio_ _—_ _date. Location: TBC.”_

Gladio could barely suppress his smile, no stranger to the intricacies of Ignis’s diarising methods.

In Ignis’s sea of tasks and meetings and deadlines, there would be this reminder for Ignis of their appointment, their _date_ , (and unbeknownst to Gladio, it also served the dual purpose of reminding Ignis himself, that it was a date to begin with), and anyone who opened Ignis’s calendar would also instantly see, though the details would be hidden, as they tend to be to anyone outside Ignis’s inner circle, that this block of time was reserved for something, or _someone_ else.

With a smile so wide Gladio’s face almost hurt, he fell back into his bed and sent Ignis a reply, before bombarding a group chat he shared with Noctis and Prompto.

* * *

A reminder alarm dings from Ignis’s phone.

In hindsight, a calendar invitation for a date might have been a mite drab.

They certainly weren’t appreciated in his previous relationship at least, “ _It’s almost a bit impersonal, don’t you think?”_ his ex had once sneered with a hint of mocking and a condescension and at the time it made Ignis feel silly for wanting something to physically look during the day, whilst he eagerly counted down the hours until he would have time together with the person he dearly cared for.

Supposing Gladio had an issue with how Ignis organised his life, as anyone who has tried in the past to fit themselves into his life did, like forcing a square peg into a round hole, it’s probably better it comes out in the open now.

And on that bitter note, he takes his keys and his phone and exits his apartment.

 

 

Ignis arrives early, and parks a few blocks away from the café where they agreed they would meet, parking spaces in this part of the city in short supply on a work day.

He always arrives early, and for a time Ignis considered it advantageous that his dates never valued punctuality as highly as he did, as it gave him ample time to steel his nerves beforehand.

He walks up to the street where Gladio had instructed the café would be, but he stops in his tracks, bewildered when he catches the sight of Gladio already standing by the entrance, scrolling idly through his phone, in a leather jacket over a white v-neck shirt and dark denim jeans.

Ignis isn’t sure if he should be charmed or mortified.

The last Ignis had seen him some hours ago, Gladio was grinning at him from across the training hall, drenched in sweat, his growing mane plastered to his scalp, tank top practically painted on him, midway through running the recruits through their drills.

It’s not like Ignis expected Gladio to turn up sweaty and an hour late in his workout gear, he gives him _far_ more credit than that, but certainly not so neatly dressed, and if the slight volume in his now dried hair was any indication, showered _and_ early, at least not for what anyone would mistake as a hasty coffee date clearly worked to fit into both their busy schedules.

Sure, Ignis went back to his apartment after work, exchanging a dress shirt that had grown lived in from sitting in cramped musty offices or meeting rooms all day for a clean, more relaxed linen button-up, and his dress pants for a pair of dark jeans, but that’s because Ignis always chooses to make an effort.

Ignis had never once considered _himself_ someone worth making an effort for.

He must’ve stood rooted in that spot for too long, as Gladio looks up from his phone and spots him, flagging him down with a wide exuberant wave.

Ignis raises a hand with a reluctant wave back, and walks over to him.

“Hey Iggy!” says Gladio with a warm smile and a friendly squeeze of his shoulder, “You’re early.”

“So are you,” says Ignis, almost defensively, taken aback by Gladio’s early arrival, the physical contact, and the floral scent of whatever soap the Shield must’ve showered with, it’s all too much—

“What can I say? I guess I was too excited,” replies Gladio with a toothy grin, too giddy to take notice of Ignis’s sudden prickliness, and it’s reason enough for Ignis’s carelessly cobbled together armour to melt away.

Gladio blinks, steps back, and looks him down and up, his eyes landing on his face, “You did your hair up again.”

Ignis’s hand travels up to where he’s slicked up his hair, his racing heart persisting, far too aware of Gladio’s soft gaze examining his now too-exposed forehead, “I thought I’d try for a change of pace.”

“You look good,” says Gladio, his voice low, and Ignis’s racing heart wants to hurdle out of his throat, “Shall we?”

Gladio opens the door and gestures for Ignis to enter first, and Ignis almost jumps when a warm hand gently presses on the middle of his back.

Ignis nods stiffly and walks ahead of him, the spot on his back tingling where it meets Gladio’s hand.

 

Gladio had suggested the location, and at first glance Ignis thought that they may have come to the wrong place. The shopfront was clearly that of a quaint aged bookstore’s, its front windows lined with rickety tables displaying stacks of secondhand books.

Gladio leads Ignis in, right into the thick of the musky smell of old ink and paper, with books packed in shelves that ran floor to ceiling.

The shopkeeper greets them both, Gladio by name in particular, and Ignis watches on puzzled while Gladio stops to stroke the token bookstore cat, before guiding Ignis gently along, palm again on Ignis’s back, through narrow spaces between bookshelves, to a doorway at the very back of the store.

Ignis walks ahead of Gladio, through the narrow brick alleyway that makes Gladio stand too close to him, until they reach a small courtyard, bedecked with dainty mismatched outdoor seating, surrounded by plants and small trees at the fringes and a sprawling tree at its centre, the exposed brick walls splashed with vibrant art that held no rhyme or reason, all bathed by the afternoon sun streaming through the translucent corrugated roof that covered the area, save for a space left open for the tree to grow through.

“Have you been here before?” asks Ignis, as they take seats along one of the courtyard’s painted walls,

“Yep,” says Gladio, “I’m barely ever in that office the Citadel gave me, since I’m always out there busting my ass with Noctis and the recruits,” Gladio sits back and examines the menu in front of him, “So when I _do_ have work that needs me sittin’ down and concentrating,”

Ignis nods along, his hands nervously clasped to the sides of his own menu, “You take it with you here,”

“Pretty much! It’s one of the only places that don’t give a shit ‘bout how long you sit here for _—”_

Gladio leans forward and puts his menu down to look at Ignis, who is in the midst of fishing his phone out of his pocket, and placing it on their table face-up _, in case Noctis needs anything_.

It’s almost muscle memory for Ignis if he’s ever out and about _without_ the Prince.

Gladio stops his train of thought midway.

Ignis stiffens in his armchair, (“ _Can’t even put your phone away?” someone, now unimportant, had once asked him with derision, “At a time like this?”),_ but then Gladio mutters something like “Shit, thanks for reminding me—” and does the same, pulling his own phone out of his pocket.

“ _—_ plus when I’m done with my work, I can just go and browse through the shop—they’ve got all these first editions and all the staff here know I’m a sucker for some of the titles,” says Gladio, smoothly picking up his sentence where he left off, “It’s probably where most of my salary goes,” Gladio adds with a laugh, “How ‘bout you? ‘Been here before?”

Ignis’s breath steadies as he blinks up from Gladio’s hand where it pushed his own phone forward, and back to the man in question,

“Not at all,” Ignis was more familiar with the cafés that sacrificed seating space for shining steel machines that churned out their bodied brews at a fast pace for the suited masses, “It’s totally missed my radar.”

“It’s kinda like my secret spot, but I’ll let you have this one morsel of my knowledge, Iggy,” says Gladio with a lopsided grin and a wink, one that makes Ignis choke on whatever witty retort he had planned, “Know what you’re getting?”

 

They place their orders and make idle conversation until the waitress brings their food and drink over, a pot of tea for Gladio, a large latte for Ignis, with extra milk, instead of his regular order, as this isn’t a situation that called for coffee darker than night to be ingested in one gulp, as well as an apple tart for Ignis and a cinnamon roll for Gladio.

Gladio acts as he always does, but now unbound by the confines of their fortnightly meeting blocks or their brief windows of time in group settings, office corridors or outside each others’ or Noctis’s apartment, he eagerly asks Ignis about life outside his, or rather, _their_ work.

_Has he been keeping up with his plyometrics? Did Ignis enjoy the last book he left him? He should really hear the funniest story about something that happened to Iris and his Dad at home. How has his uncle been?_

Ignis answers Gladio’s questions, ironing out the nerves in his voice as meticulously as he had ironed out his shirt prior, and listens to Gladio’s animated stories, his gaze darting from amber eyes too bright to linger on, to the glass of milky coffee he grips in both hands.

Ignis could do this.

But then Gladio slips his jacket off, completely lackadaisical, and hangs it on the armrest of his chair, and Ignis’s eyes catch defined tattooed biceps straining against the sleeves of Gladio’s white T-shirt.

Ignis forces himself to swallow a portion of his tart.

He could do this. It’s fine. It’s a coffee with a friend. It’s a coffee _date_ with a friend. A fiendishly handsome one at that, one who looks at him with such an _unrestrained_ fondness that Ignis has never seen on the larger man before and has him wanting to shrink into his wicker armchair.

Gladio's a lot more tactile now too, more so than usual, shooting goosebumps up Ignis’s forearm whenever he brushes against it, or leaning in close to tell him something over the buzz of the café’s patrons, before sitting back to amuse in Ignis’s deep full face flush.

It's not that Gladio makes him uncomfortable. Far from it, Gladio has always had an inbuilt aura about him that exacts his relaxation on the mere mortals that tread into his presence.

But it’s just that it had been so long a time since Ignis had been the centre of one person's attention like this.

And Ignis would have to count back even longer to find the last time, if there even _was_ such a time, that the center of one person's attention had been on _Ignis himself_ , and not his proximity to the Crown, nor on his education nor his breeding.

Ignis looks back up at Gladio, who is talking about a stack of books he's working through with a twinkle in his eye, diligently filling the gaps of silence that Ignis keeps inadvertently leaving behind, and Ignis's stomach sinks in guilt.

Here Ignis sits with the most charming company he's had all year and all he's doing is comparing him to how much worse he’s had it before.

“How do you find the time to get through so many books?” asks Ignis hesitantly. Words are what he does best, and he’s not going to let rapturous smiles nor painful memories rob him of this so easily now, “I can't imagine you'd have that much more free time than I do.”

“I barely ever really,” Gladio’s face brightens further at the question, as if that was even possible, and it lightens the load of guilt in Ignis’s chest somewhat.  

Gladio pauses and picks up his cinnamon roll between a thumb and a forefinger, “Sometimes taking public transport helps though.”

“Oh?” says Ignis, while he watches Gladio take a sizeable bite from his pastry, “You must have to get up quite early so as to miss the morning rush,”

 _See,_ Ignis _is_ capable of smooth conversation, _It’s just like any other time with Gladio, there’s nothing to fret about,_ he assures himself, so capable indeed, even when Ignis’s eyes catch the sight of the tip of Gladio’s tongue, darting out to pick up bits of stray frosting from his cinnamon roll from the corner of his lips.

“Well yeah,” Gladio continues, “But it’s worth it if it means I get to sit back and focus on a book ‘til I get to where I have to be,” he distractedly swabs at a bit of stray frosting that he’s missed with a thumb, and licks it off, heedless of Ignis’s eyes tracking his every movement.

Gladio blinks back from his plate, and up at Ignis, who quickly scrambles to look elsewhere.

Gladio raises an eyebrow and gives him a good-natured smirk.

 _Quick_ _Scientia, say something back so he doesn’t you notice you staring you dolt,_ Ignis clears his throat, “One could say that you really get _transported_ into the story then.”

Ignis had been so distracted by someone else’s mouth, he hadn’t realised his own mouth had taken off without him, until Gladio smacks the top of the table and throws his head back in booming laughter, childlike and carefree, his laughter echoing against the walls of the courtyard, drawing the attention of the fellow patrons around them.

It’s the most adorable thing Ignis has seen, a far cry from flaky recollections of blank stares and flat declarations of “ _I don’t get it”_ at any of his attempts at humour in his previous relationship.

“Gods Iggy,” Gladio wheezes, and catches his breath, unconcerned with their fellow patrons glancing at them to see what the commotion was about, “That was terrible.”

“My apologies,” says Ignis, a small smile twitching from the corner of his lips, “I couldn’t help it.”

“Seriously, for a really smart and witty guy, you come up with the shittiest puns.”

“You love it,” scoffs Ignis.

“Yeah,” Gladio’s expression softens, and he sits back, resting his chin on one hand, his elbow leaning on the armrest of his wicker chair, “I do.”

 _Yep,_ Ignis rolls his eyes, and pushes his glasses up, hoping his hand obscures his blush,   _I can do this._

 

Their conversations stretch longer than their drinks allow, and soon Gladio orders and gets through a second pot of tea, and Ignis follows suit with a large chai, again, with extra milk, both no longer hiding how they’re trying to draw their time together out longer, both also deciding that another pastry each would be too much just before dinner, so why not get one for them to share instead?

They lean in closer, to better reach the lemon slice in the middle of the table more comfortably as they talk, sometimes so close Ignis could count Gladio’s eyelashes if he wanted to, and Ignis finds that he doesn’t mind the closeness one bit.

Soon an alarm sounds from Ignis’s phone, and his heart sinks.

He has to run back to the office, and he’ll need to leave soon if he wants to miss the after-work traffic, so he can prepare documents for an international teleconference for the following morning.

Gladio looks momentarily crestfallen, before a gentle smile washes over his face.

“Back to work?”

“Unfortunately,” Ignis sighs.

Gladio chuckles, “You do your country a great service Iggs.” He gestures for the waitress, wallet pulled out of his jacket pocket in hand, and asks for the bill, and Ignis reaches for his own wallet.

“Nope,” says Gladio, gently swatting his wallet away,  “No you don’t.”

“I can pay for myself,” affirms Ignis, and it’s admittedly a knee jerk reaction: he’s all too familiar with well-off young men who took every opportunity they could get to flaunt their wealth and make Ignis feel like they owed them for it.

“Eos to Iggy,” chirps Gladio, leaning in with a gentle tap of his finger on Ignis’s forehead, “I asked you out remember?”

“Quite clearly, yes,”

“And you took the time outta your busy schedule and humoured me enough to delight me with your company,” says Gladio, tapping his card on the card-reader the waitress brings over.

Ignis opens his mouth to protest once more, but Gladio shrugs, slips his card back into his wallet, and adds, his tone nonchalant, “You can cover the next one.”

“Right,” Ignis closes his mouth, rendered speechless, and slowly nods, _The next one._

 

They exit the café, as well as the bookstore proper, to Ignis’s disappointment—it would’ve been nice if they had the time to go through the myriad of books together, but alas, for another time perhaps—and they step out into the cool late afternoon air.

Gladio had offered to walk him to his car, and Ignis agreed with a nervous and rapid nod of his head, secretly pleased with the fact that by some god’s divine providence, that he had to park such a trek a way.

They walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Ignis warmed by the contact with the other man, Gladio’s body heat permeating through his jacket, and Ignis’s full body flush isn’t helping matters either.

Every once in a while, their hands would brush, and Ignis would flinch.

Gladio must have sensed his discomfort, because he slips his hands in his jacket pockets, and Ignis can’t help the disappointment in his chest.

They walk on, their steps slow and metered, Ignis fiddling with the hem of his jacket, whilst Gladio whistles a jaunty tune.

“Um.”

Gladio glances at Ignis with a friendly smile, “Yeah?”

“I don’t mind,” Ignis begins, eying his hand closest to Gladio, gripping at the bottom of his own jacket, “If you, _ah_ ,” Ignis swallows, his throat dry, and he clenches and unclenches his fist, “You could take my hand, if you’d like.”

“If you’re okay with that, yeah,” Gladio purses his lips, before breaking out into a full beam, “I really wanna.”

Gladio pulls his right hand out of his pocket, and takes Ignis’s left, and Ignis hopes it doesn’t feel as clammy and sweaty to Gladio as it does to him, _Oh gods this was such a bad idea_ _—_

“Comfortable?”

Ignis nods quietly, and they fall into an amicable silence, Gladio’s calloused hand burning in his.

“My apologies again Gladio,” Ignis blurts out.

“Huh?” says Gladio, his head tilted down to regard Ignis, “For what?”

“The time slot,” says Ignis with a grimace, “I’m a bit full up at the moment, but I didn’t want to make you wait months for me to be available.”

“What Iggy no!” Gladio exclaims, lowering his volume as he adds, “That’s nothing to apologise for. I totally get it.”

Ignis lets out a small exhale in relief, his heart jumping in his ribcage when Gladio squeezes his hand in reassurance.

“It’s nice,” Ignis says.

“What is?”

“It’s nice to be around someone, who, well,” Ignis stutters, “Who gets _it_ , because well, _he_ didn’t— I mean to say, not many people ever did—”

What was he going to say? Not many people did, like the last guy that Ignis bent over backwards for in order to desperately hold onto his affections when it was starting to look like it was too late?

 _A right good job you’ve done there Scientia,_ Ignis rubs at his temple with a sigh, _Impress your date with trivia from your previous relationship, Gladio would absolutely love that._

“For what it’s worth,” says Gladio, cutting straight into Ignis’s embarrassment as thoughtlessly as he cuts into training dummies with his greatsword, “I would’ve waited months for a free time slot with you if I had to.”

Ignis blushes something fierce, and unable to come up with anything to say to something like _that_ , retorts, “You’d be waiting a long time.”

“I’m sure it’d be worth it!” Gladio says with a booming laugh, “But you have to make time for yourself sometimes too,” he continues in a serious tone, more concerned than reprimanding, “Hell, you could’ve still totally booked me for months away if y’wanted to, if it meant you had this afternoon free for more enjoyable stuff.”

 _This was the most enjoyable afternoon I’ve had with another person in a long time,_ but it goes unsaid, as it’s too much, too soon, so instead Ignis asks, “Such as?”

“Knitting? Reading? Cooking?” Gladio lists as he taps his finger on his free hand to his chin, “Stream really cheesy movies?”

“Got any to recommend?” Ignis asks absentmindedly with a small smile, letting himself be swept into the flow of the conversation, and into the way Gladio slowly sways their joined hands together,

“Me and Iris always watch those really shitty ones that come out during Solstice season.”

“Ah yes, I know those,” says Ignis, his steps slowing alongside Gladio,  “I’ve always known you were fond of romances, but that’s a bit below your standards isn’t it?”

“Excuse you,” huffs Gladio, affronted, “They’re the best of the best of online cinema.”

Ignis snorts, and bursts out in laughter, clear and unrestrained, as he covers his mouth with his free hand.

“Okay fine,” Gladio lightly bumps Ignis by the side of his hip with his, grinning at the sight of the Advisor so unfettered, “It’s mostly the hilarious acting, but me’n’Iris come up with some pretty good commentary.”

“Now I’d love to hear that.”

“Ya should!” barks Gladio, “Come ‘round for Solstice dinner sometime, if y’wanna watch the bloated Amicitias laugh at B-grade actors.”

Gladio trails off, his grin sliding off his face, “It could just be _as friends_ , if you want, I mean you already know Dad and Iris,” he stops in his tracks and runs his hand over his face in exasperation, setting Ignis’s hand free, and he turns to face him, “I made this weird didn’t I?”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” says Ignis, rubbing his sweaty hand on the top of his jeans, “I’ve been around yours plenty of times before.”

“But in general too, I’ve made it all weird now, haven’t I?” Gladio chews his bottom lip in thought, and even with how chapped it is in the autumn coolness, it’s far too full and lovely to be worried like that, “By asking you out.”

Ignis licks his lips, his mouth gone dry. In all those days he spent fretting over what he thought would be an inconsequential get-together to Gladio and what it would mean for their friendship and for their duties, Ignis never stopped to consider that Gladio may be as troubled as he was.

“I thought it would be,” says Ignis carefully, “But I had a really lovely time with you today.”

Gladio lets out a long sigh of relief.

“Same here— as in I had a nice time with you, I didn’t mean I had a nice time with me—”

Ignis’s amused laugh breaks through Gladio’s tension.

It’s not often Ignis sees the Shield so flustered, at least not since he had asked him out in his office. It’s reassuring to know that he hadn’t been the only one in shambles this afternoon.

“Have you always been this inarticulate?” asks Ignis with a raised brow, clearly aware that Gladio was hardly the type to be,

“Seriously Iggy?” Gladio chuckles weakly, ruffling the top of his head and kicking his foot at the flat pavement, “Only around you,” he adds with a shrug.

“Maybe I should hang around Noctis’s training sessions more often then,” Ignis quips back at the unexpected response, his cheeks burning, taking one step to stand by Gladio’s side again and taking Gladio’s hand back in his, “He’s been complaining that you mouth off while you beat him senseless far _too_ much.”

“Hey, if it means I get to see more of you during the week?” says Gladio, spreading Ignis’s fingers out before intertwining them with his own, “I’d sing Noct daily praises if I had to.”

Ignis only humphs, his entire face on fire, but he lets Gladio pull him closer to his side, a wide goofy grin plastered on his companion’s handsome face.

 

“Are you sure I can’t give you a ride to where you’re going?” asks Ignis when they reach his car.

“Nah, I think I might catch the bus back.” says Gladio, their hands still clasped together as he turns to face Ignis, “Take some time to pull my foot out of my mouth.”

“I’ll leave you to do that then,” says Ignis with a soft chuckle, “It might take you longer than a bus ride though.”

Gladio barks out a laugh before slowly releasing Ignis’s hand. He places his hands on Ignis's shoulders, and slowly drags them down to gently squeeze at his biceps, “Don’t push yourself too hard ‘kay Iggy?”

“I’ll try not to,” replies Ignis breathlessly, pocketing his hand to fish out his car keys.

He pulls them out, fumbling to press the button that unlocks his car, while Gladio watches him in amused silence.

“Gladio,” says Ignis quietly, looking up to meet warm eyes.

Gladio leans in closer, “Hm?”

Ignis swallows a lump in his throat, “It’d be nice if we did this again.”

The smile that grows on Gladio’s face is so bright it could probably power all of Insomnia for a couple of hours.

“I’d like that.”

Ignis stands there awkwardly, Gladio's hands still on his upper arms.

Gladio looks at Ignis, his gaze expectant, as if waiting for his next move.

_A handshake would be out of place. Pulling back with a wave would be out of the question._

Ignis pulls himself up on tiptoes and slips his arms under Gladio’s, wrapping them around his broad torso, and drawing him into a hug.

After a startled beat, Gladio wraps his own arms around Ignis’s shoulders in a snug embrace, and a heat and tingling from Ignis’s chest spreads and sets him abuzz with warmth all over.

It’s there that Ignis theorises, his chin on Gladio’s firm shoulder, that with enough incentive, Gladio’s smiles could probably power Insomnia for a full day.

Ignis leans up and brushes his lips in a gentle kiss against Gladio’s stubbled cheek.

“I’ll send you a calendar invite?” asks Ignis, nervously gripping his car keys as he pulls away.

“Um, yeah,” says Gladio dumbly, his tanned face a faint shade of red.

“I’ll see you around the Citadel?” asks Ignis tentatively with a smile.

Gladio finally returns the smile, small at first, “Sure.”

Assured that Ignis hadn’t completely fried the Shield’s brain, that would be a major security risk for the future of the kingdom, Ignis draws back and enters his car, straps himself in, and starts the engine.

He opens his front seat window and waves Gladio goodbye, who waves back, face still red, but his smile now bright enough, Ignis estimates, to power Insomnia for a full week.

* * *

Word around the Citadel is, that Scientia boy is reliable.

Insider knowledge that higher ups pass around to each other is that pawning off work to the young Advisor is far too easy to pull off, he’s young and eager to please, and all know full well that Ignis would stay after hours to have it all complete, that he would respond to all e-mails after hours, or that he would dutifully attend international teleconferences with esteemed foreign associates to take their minutes at times most convenient for some time zones, but certainly not the one Ignis was in.

After a few months however, a slow but certain change occurred.

At first it starts off with polite replies, laced with a smidgen of passive aggression—still clearly written by Ignis himself:

_As per my last e-mail, the work will be completed when I am next back in the office, as I will not be working from home tonight._

_If the deadline is so urgent, and I appreciate that a matter under your charge and not under mine surely would be, then certainly yourself or your staff are more than competent enough and equipped to address it in time than I would be._

_With kindest regards,_

But soon e-mails sent after office hours are met with automatic do-not-disturb out-of-office replies (unless you’re someone _really_ important, in which case, you would know the more private avenues to reach Ignis by anyway), and calendar invitations for out of hours meetings start bouncing back with automatic rejections.

For regulars to Ignis’s personal and work calendars, those who often open it to desperately find an availability for a last-minute frantic meeting, they soon sense a pattern.

Gaps in his busy schedule that were once there suddenly disappear.

There’s sometimes already a certain block of time consistently allocated to certain evenings during the week, different from the ones designated for his time with the Prince.

Sometimes they even extend to the following _morning_ , particularly following upcoming weekends, until soon Ignis starts blocking out his some of his entire weekends too, and it puzzles everyone to no end.

Everyone except a select few.

Gladio takes a brief moment to prop himself on an elbow to watch Ignis quietly snooze through the early hours of the morning, clad in nothing but the warm sheets of Gladio’s bed, his tawny hair mussed and pale skin marked from an evening where they certainly did not wish to be disturbed.

Gladio smiles softly to himself when Ignis reaches backwards to pull one of his tattooed arms over to rest on his waist, with a muffled murmur of “Go back to sleep Gladio."

Gladio settles his head back onto his pillow, pulls himself closer to Ignis, Ignis’s warm back flush against his large chest, and presses his lips to a mole on his shoulder, before closing his eyes, not too far from returning to the embrace of sleep himself.

Ignis blocked out the entire weekend anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> this was just meant to be a small ol' thing for Gladio's birthday, but I ran out of time to actually write it and thought, "I bet Ignis would be real cute when it comes to Outlook invitations"
> 
> edit: had to fix formatting in some places!


End file.
